


Shadowslayers, Inc.

by Yeah_JSmith



Series: Ruff Stuff [7]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Adorkable Protagonists, Aspiring Cop Judy, Badass Finnick, Badass Nick, Blowjobs, But Still Kinda Scary, Comedy, F/M, Implied/Referenced BDSM, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Nick Being a Troll, Nocturnal District is Basically Hollywood, PI Nick, Ridiculous Villain, Spooky Stories You Can Tell to Your Kids, Worldbuilding, badass Judy, characters being sweet to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: There's been a series of hauntings in the Nocturnal District. Actresses are being terrorized and their valuables are going missing, but the ZPD can't take ghost stories seriously. Newly-minted PI Nick Wilde, of Wilde Investigations, is on the case...and so is Judy Hopps, the ZPA's most promising student.





	1. The Blog Hog

**Author's Note:**

> For those who don't want to bother with the previous installments: Judy won a scholarship to ZU and met Nick in college. They started a relationship after a decent amount of time as friends. Their relationship has a BDSM dynamic, which Nick proposed to Judy one day over lunch and Judy agreed to (after doing the Judy thing and looking up everything she could, and then having a long, serious, multi-faceted discussion with him about boundaries and limits, because consent is sexy). Nick used to be a street con who Judy convinced to register as a CI, but eventually he decided to make a career change and got an apprenticeship with a PI. He's finished with his apprenticeship and is now establishing his own business. Their age difference is halved.
> 
> Please do not jump to conclusions. As you will soon see, that is a bad idea. Hilarious, but bad.

With a heavy sigh, Nick Wilde clicked his mouse and officially deactivated his account. He hadn’t used it in about 8 months, but even if he’d wanted to continue, he was _respectable_ now, with his own business and a license to practice awesomeness. He couldn’t afford to have any of his posts traced back to him. Not that he’d ever said anything _bad,_ per se, but nobody would want to hire the jerk who kept filling Lynxus forums with pro-Carrot posts.

(He was 187% pro-Carrots, _plural,_ because she was amazing, but he was more of a Views mammal, functionally speaking. He just thought it was fun to annoy the more militant computer geeks.)

It felt like letting go of the last piece of his old life. Nick found that it didn’t feel wrong; it felt long overdue. Something he should have done a long time ago. He’d never loved change, had always taken comfort in the safety of the familiar, but not all change was bad. And not all familiarity was good. His old life hadn’t been spectacular, although he had taken pains to avoid the worst. What he had _now_ was better: a real job, a safe place to rest his head, friendship instead of convenient partnership with Finnick, and Judy.

“Thinkin’ bout that bunny of yours, ain’tcha,” asked Finnick almost immediately, and Nick scowled. That was the downside to being in a good relationship; he couldn’t always control when he smiled like a lovestruck idiot.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Nick shot back, perhaps a touch more aggressively than necessary, “but I’m imagining all the piles of gold I’ll be rolling around in if this case goes well.”

“Right.” Finnick leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t exactly the _best_ chair, but Nick’s wasn’t, either. The most comfortable one they had was for clients. Their office space would improve with time. At least they had a desk, even _if_ it was just a breakfast table that Ian, a gray fox with basic woodworking skills, had fitted some drawers into and varnished to look like oak instead of whatever it really was. “You gonna bring her along to check out Fiona Hamford’s place?”

Nick’s first reaction – a resounding _no –_ was halted by Finnick’s positive tone of voice. Nick knew that Judy and Finnick got on pretty well behind his back, but he hadn’t expected Finnick to be open to including Judy in their business. No matter their personal fondness for one another, Judy was aiming to be a cop, and Finnick detested cops. “I wasn’t planning to. Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think Judy’s been learnin’ about police procedure for a year now and has a couple months of downtime,” Finnick said with a shrug. “Would be stupid not to use her as a resource on our first case.”

That was...not the worst reasoning. Judy had decided to continue with her studies at the academy, going for a second year of instruction. Graduates of the advanced program largely skipped the beat cop portion of police work and partnered with full-fledged detectives from the get-go, although they couldn’t call themselves detectives until they passed an exam only offered after three years on the force. But there was a two-month gap between the end of the standard program and the beginning of the advanced program: another test. If the student couldn’t keep themselves in proper shape or remember the material they’d learned, and they failed the advanced entrance exam, they weren’t admitted to the program. Because Judy was Judy, she’d been studying ahead since before she passed the standard program. Because Finnick was Finnick, he’d thought about how they could use that to their benefit.

Because Nick was Nick, he nodded and said, “That sounds logical. I’ll ask her if she wants to help us.”

(The answer would be an enthusiastic yes. Nick knew this without thinking about it. But he had to make a token effort to be cool about the whole thing.)

He had no illusions about this case: it was stupid and probably unsolvable. Fiona Hamford, a minor star in a long-running soap that had a solid spot in pop culture, had first petitioned the ZPD, who’d laughed her out of the building. Then she’d gone from PI to PI, most likely according to the amount of SEO each business had invested in, and been laughed out of _their_ offices...until Nick Wilde, professional _sucker,_ had realized he had to start somewhere, and it might as well be a stupid and unsolvable case. After all, she had enough money to pay him whatever he asked for.

_Want to help Finn and me solve a haunting?_

Almost immediately, Nick got a series of reply texts:

_Wtf_

_Yes_

_YES_

_Wait, are you joking_

_Nick you better not be joking_

He grinned and decided to let her stew for a bit. The best way to summon Judy back to the real world was to plant something under her skin; otherwise, she’d probably spend half her day at the gym and the other half at some two-star coffee shop studying with a cold cup of coffee next to her. It was, after all, what she had been doing the whole week she’d been finished with her first year at the academy. It still didn’t quite feel like she was back from school yet; they slept next to each other every night, and she was as physically affectionate as always, but her mind was elsewhere.

He wasn’t bothered. He _wasn’t._ She had never lied about her values. He had known what he was getting into before he’d moved in with her. Before they’d even talked about him moving in with her. He had known from the beginning that she would probably prioritize work over him sometimes, and she had encouraged him to do the same, so long as he loved what he did for a living. Still, it was a little weird and more than a little unpleasant to miss her when she was right next to him.

Nick stretched a bit and opened a new tab to do some research on their client. It was important to know what kind of mammal she was – not species or occupation, obviously, but her values and ratings and the kinds of things she was involved in. If she was overly-superstitious, she might have simply misplaced the jewelry set that had cost her $2500, plus the various trinkets that had brought the total to about $8,000, and blamed it on ghosts after a bad nightmare. If she was prone to lying, she might be setting up some kind of scam...not that a scam like this would have a worthwhile payoff, not with the easy ways to verify legitimacy, but not everyone had grown up studying the greats and learning from their mother to pick pockets, so Nick could see how some silly mammal might try to set up a bad scheme.

Fiona Hamford...was a staunch atheist and skeptic. She was independently wealthy, having begun acting after selling her tech startup for millions, and regularly donated to local activist groups. She shared cutesy pro-science memes on MuzzleBook and had won a bit of hilarious acclaim for a Chitter fight with a politician who had posted a rant about “forced PC culture” being the primary reason for societal decline. When she wasn’t busy with acting or charitable ventures, she made dramatic jokes about having nothing to wear and gave out urban gardening tips on her weirdly specific blog. (Nick made a note to look at that in more detail, because he and Judy couldn’t get their cilantro to grow for _anything.)_ Overall, she didn’t seem like the type to either fabricate a haunting or believe in supernatural forces. She seemed like a more or less regular mammal who happened to be an actress.

Nick wasn’t inclined to believe that supernatural forces were at work, but that didn’t mean that Fiona hadn’t been terrorized and stolen from. With a bit of technical know-how and costume magic, it probably wasn’t hard to _fake_ a haunting. Judy was going to be disappointed in her beloved ZPD for overlooking this possibility, but there wasn’t anything they could do about that.

Well, they could probably phone in a tip, but if the ZPD took the case, Nick would lose his paycheck. He wasn’t an altruist by a long shot.

Nick sent the information to Finnick’s email so they’d both have the right links saved, and then suddenly, the door flew open so hard it might have been kicked in. Judy had a bag slung over her shoulder and bright, bright eyes. She must have packed up and run over immediately, which didn’t surprise Nick at all. He tried to hide his laughter, but was unsuccessful, judging by the way Judy’s eyes narrowed upon seeing him.

“You jerk,” she said, shutting the door behind her and stalking over to his desk. “There’s no haunting scam, is there?”

“No, no, there really is,” Nick replied, still trying not to laugh.

She huffed and turned to the side so that she could look directly at Finnick. “Finn? Is Nick just messing with me?”

“Not this time, Bunny,” Finnick told her, sounding amused. His face always looked like someone had pooped in his porridge, but his voice was a pretty big giveaway. “And you’ll never guess who the client is.”

Nick picked up the thread, deciding not to torture her anymore. “It’s Fiona Hamford.”

“Wait, Fiona Hamford, from the _Groovy Gardens_ blog?”

Of course the black-thumbed daughter of farmers would know of a gardening blog but not the owner’s celebrity status. “I mean, yes, but most mammals know her as Gwen Mudsen from _As the Earth Rotates.”_

“She’s an actress too?” Judy blinked. “That show’s still _running?_ My mom watched that every time she was pregnant! Which was...a lot. A _lot._ She spent most of my childhood pregnant.”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” said Nick, only half-teasing as he watched her shudder. He was just as glad as she was that foxes and rabbits weren’t genetically compatible.

“So...wow. An actress. Heck of a first client. You’re serious about me helping, right?”

“Of course. I may not be the nicest fox around, but I wouldn’t torture you like that. We were going to go look around her place, see what we can see in terms of technology that doesn’t belong.”

“Are you gonna wear your coat? Please wear your coat.”

Nick laughed. “Sure, I’ll wear my coat.”

“You’re both weird,” Finnick announced, and there was no way to refute that.

* * *

Much like Happytown, the Nocturnal District wasn’t officially part of Zootopia, but tended to be associated with the major city because of its close proximity. It was something of an incidental tourist trap for out-of-towners, non-Zootopians who wanted to get photos of themselves on Starstrike Boulevard or keep their eyes peeled for celebrities at clubs on the Twilight Strip. The truth, though, was that most of the District was a shitfest. Once you left the showy, touristy areas, but before you got to the suburbs, it was all sex boutiques and fortune tellers and questionable food. Judy was righteously angry about the leaky tenement buildings and thriving tent city, and equally enthusiastic about the hidden holes in the wall; Nick wasn’t surprised at all. Her passion for life was unreal. It made him feel young and excited about things that had previously held no interest for him.

The heat was beginning to get to him. He thought that wearing his coat had been a terrible idea. Judy had bought it for him as a gift when he’d gotten his PI certification, a long black trench coat that fit like a dream and would be useful in stormy weather. It was a bit on the nose, more of a gag gift than something practical initially, but – honestly – he did look good in it, and he could keep his wallet, phone, and keys in the elbow-deep pockets.

The suburban area (if you could call sprawling neighborhoods full of kitschy estates the suburbs) was much quieter than the district center, although there were plenty of tour buses that annoyed residents. Nick figured that if they _really_ cared, they’d move; it wasn’t like they didn’t have the money, and there was nothing in the district worth staying for. Fiona Hamford lived on the very outer edge, right near the sign that read “NOW LEAVING ZOOTOPIA.” It was a 20-minute drive or a 30-minute train ride to the nearest town that way. Fortunately, Nick, Judy, and Finnick could just walk from the nearest train stop.

It was a harried-looking Fiona who answered her own door when Nick knocked. She raised an eyebrow, presumably at his companions, but let them in with a wary, “Associates of yours, Mr. Wilde?”

“My long-time business partner, Finnick Furson,” Nick replied, and then gestured at Judy. “And Judy Hopps, who just finished her first year at the Zootopia Police Academy.”

“You want to be a _police officer?”_

Judy nodded fervently. “Yep! I’m top of my class now, and I plan to stay there.”

“The more trained eyes, the better, I guess,” Fiona said with a shrug.

Nick studied her for a moment. Boars, these days, were almost considered prey. Their long-held religious and cultural tradition of clipping their babies’ teeth made them look as nonthreatening as a species with tusks could be, and most of them (like foxes) were vegetarians. Fiona Hamford was a media darling and down-to-Earth socialite, dressed in designer jeans and pearls under a ratty males’ housecoat, but there were plenty of critics who believed she had won her roles solely because of her nominal minority status. _Not at all a good actress_ was the most common message atop the speciesism, both passive and vitriolic, and Nick wasn’t sure whether they were correct from a technical standpoint; she’d won a Razzbeary Award for her role in a TV movie as a ditzy, clumsy journalist who moonlighted as an assassin, but was widely recognized as the “only actress who could have pulled off such a flat cliché,” at least among the crowd that watched bad movies for fun.

“I know you explained it to Nick,” Judy said with a gentle smile, “but would you mind telling me the story in your own words? Just so that we’re all on the same page.”

“I heard a window break down here,” Fiona replied, leading them into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a broken window. Nick exchanged a look with Finnick; they both knew it was in a strategic location. Big enough for various mammals to slip into and out of, but leading into the backyard, so the culprit could hop (or burrow under) the fence and leave with no one the wiser. Fiona gestured to the stairs. “I came down to see what the noise was – the owls are huge here, and getting one in the house is a real danger – but all I saw was this...figure. I don’t know how to explain it. It wasn’t shaped like anything I’ve ever seen. It was a sort of brownish color, with either six fingers or ten; it was as tall as an adult cougar, but skinny, and it kept making this gurgling noise. All I know for sure is that it was bipedal, like us, but its mouth was too small for the amount of fangs it had. It was ghastly, Ms. Hopps. It smiled at me. It made motion with its...paw...and told me to come to it, and then I felt like I was being pushed down the stairs. I hit my head, and when I woke up...the thing was gone, and so were my valuables. I don’t understand why, though. I have better stuff for a thief to take; one that size could probably carry my piano out of here, and that’s worth several times what they stole since it’s from the set of _Theophilus.”_

“That’s...quite the story,” Judy managed. “It must have been terrifying. You don’t mind if we look around, do you?”

“Please do,” said Fiona graciously.

Judy joined Nick and Finnick by the window and leaned in closely, pretending to get a closer look at the shattered wood. “I don’t think she saw the thief.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Nick replied quietly, knowing that Judy and Finnick both could pick up on his tiny words with their giant ears. “I think the thief was small. Maybe even as small as me. A cougar couldn’t fit through that window, even a skinny one, unless they were also a contortionist. We’re looking for technology – something advanced enough to project a convincing holograph, but small enough to escape notice. They probably took it with them after they shoved her down the stairs, so it’s unlikely we’ll find anything, but you never know. At least we have a starting point.”

“I don’t like this,” Finnick grumbled as they all three got started searching for any evidence of unfamiliar technology...or signs of a mammal other than Fiona. She probably had plenty of visitors, so it wouldn’t be a great lead, but it would be _something._ “We’re talkin’ about someone with access to advanced tech who’s willing to push an actress down the stairs...or, worst-case scenario, an actual monster.”

Judy dropped to her knees and looked behind a potted plant, grumbling something Nick couldn’t make out. Finnick snorted and Nick sighed, long-suffering. “Care to share with the class?”

“That description just strikes a chord,” she told him. “Something about it...I feel like I’ve seen it before, or read about it. I just can’t think of where or when, or why I’d be reading about monsters.”

“And she said we oughtta have a Komodo Dragon to round out the cliché,” Finnick added, amused.

Nick looked back at Fiona, who seemed to be busy making a cup of tea. At a whisper, and prompting muffled giggles from Judy, he replied, “Not until we have a pot-smoking wolf and a hippie van. Come on, respect the source material or you’re just as bad as every film adaptation ever made.”

They were absolutely, 100% taking this job seriously. There was, after all, money involved. But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t find it funny that someone thought staging a haunting was a great way to steal a few thousand bucks’ worth of valuables from an actress who could afford to lose it.

* * *

They hadn’t found any technology, not that they were surprised about it. Only the most careless of thieves would leave valuable technology behind as evidence. Nick had thanked Fiona for access to the scene and faked a promising lead, mostly because his craving for coffee was greater than his desire to comb a dead end for clues that wouldn’t be found, and now, his team was sitting at a little round table in Tigro, an aesthetically pleasing coffee house that got away with inflating the price of decent java and standard diner food simply because of its location.

 _“Monsters...with...too...many...fangs,”_ Finnick mumbled, typing away at his phone. It was as good a lead as any; maybe if they could figure out what kind of monster Fiona had been tricked with, they could use it as a springboard. Or maybe it would be another dead end.

Similarly, Judy was on her phone, scowling at the screen as she hit blank after blank in the search Nick had asked her to run on recent advanced technology thefts. Nick himself was just thinking furiously. The Nocturnal District was full of established actors, of course, but also aspiring ones. Tech geeks who had either made it or wanted to make it, special effects geniuses, and yes, mystics, some of whom claimed to be able to speak to the dead. There were any number of mammals who could pull off a scare like this and make it seem real enough that even a skeptic like Fiona would believe it. But _why?_ Why not just break in while she was on set or something? What did the culprit have to gain by scaring her half to death just for a few thousand bucks?

There _was_ always the possibility that for some unclear purpose, Fiona Hamford had made the whole thing up, but what could _she_ gain from that? Insurance money? She was wealthy enough that she didn’t need an insurance scam, and besides, a haunting sounded so ridiculous that the ZPD had sent her on her way. What insurance company would pay out for goods stolen by a seven-foot monster?

“It looks like Hamford ain’t the only one got hit with the haunting treatment,” Finnick told the table. “Two other actresses, a lioness named Rachel Crin and a llama named Julia Root. Well, I say actresses, but Crin does _adult entertainment_ and Root’s only role’s been a rarely-seen Commander in a MewTube-based supernatural police procedural that didn’t get picked up by any networks, so she mostly does fleece care commercials. They both have blogs and their descriptions are basically identical, though Crin mentions that the thing’s claws are weird and Root goes on for three paragraphs about how it doesn’t have a tail.”

 _“That’s_ it,” Judy piped up loudly. She looked around guiltily and lowered her voice. “I knew I’d seen it or read about it somewhere! I used to read Agent Savage comics as a kit – and don’t you _dare_ laugh, they were literally the only comics that didn’t have bunnies as the butt of jokes or background noise – and one of his recurring enemies was this...well, okay, so the backstory is that a bunny, a hare, got bullied by predators as a kit, and experimented on himself to give himself predatory traits, but it backfired and he died...only he didn’t. And it drove him mad. So Jack’s most dangerous nemesis was an oversized misshapen half-ghost bunny who hunted mammals for fun. He looked like that. He could disappear like a ghost, using...superpowers granted by death or something dumb like that, so he never stayed in jail.”

“They were thinking about doing a live-action Agent Savage movie, weren’t they?”

She snorted. “Every few years rumors will start up about it, but the execs say there’s no money in bunny protagonists. As if there wouldn’t be 80 million bunnies in the Tri-Burrows alone willing to pay to see it nine times in the theaters.”

Ouch. There were even a few movies with fox protagonists, although _Robin Hood_ wasn’t necessarily the best face for Nick’s species and _Foxtrot_ had just been one of dozens of dance movies made in the early 2000’s, only slightly noteworthy because the lead vixen’s (doomed) love interest had been a wolf.

“Maybe they weren’t always rumors,” Finnick mused, sounding uninvested in the whole idea.

“You mean maybe somebody developed at least a computer model of the Ghostly Hunter – that’s what its name was in the comics – and then...abandoned the project? And somebody else is using it to terrorize actresses? That’s kind of a weird and _expensive_ M.O.”

“Then again, those comics are niche. I only know about them because I looked up “bunnies in law enforcement” when I met you,” Nick admitted. “What are the odds of someone recognizing this particular character, putting it together...you know what, every word that comes out of my mouth makes this sound more and more ridiculous.”

“Skip ridiculous, it sounds fucking stupid,” said Finnick.

“I agree,” Judy said, “but our only other hypothesis right now is a _literal ghost._ We have to start somewhere, right? Even if we have it completely wrong...at least we can rule it out.”

Nick was positive that they would, indeed, be ruling it out. But Judy was right: they had to start _somewhere_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some interesting trivia: I turned _Amadeus_ into _Theophilus_ for two reasons: one, it's funny, and two, Disney does this thing where it renames stuff to generic names that you can recognize as not-quite-right. _Amadeus_ isn't quite as historically inaccurate as _Xena: Warrior Princess,_ but you shouldn't take it as a documentary; still, it was a wonderful movie, and Fiona’s piano would be worth an obscene amount of money.


	2. Witness Deflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang interview victims and hit dead ends.

Finnick went back to the office to research holographic technology on a real computer and run the prints they’d lifted from Fiona’s house, citing a need to be alone, but Nick knew his and Judy’s unconscious flirting often made Finnick uncomfortable. (Whether he was being nice or just passive-aggressive by stepping away was anyone’s guess.) While the trio awaited a group text from Fiona letting them know whether she recognized the Ghostly Hunter, Nick and Judy stepped inside Julia Root’s apartment in the decaying district sprawl, caught halfway between the center and the picturesque suburban hellscape where Fiona lived.

It had been easy enough to reach out to Julia, as she wasn’t exactly a well-known actress. Rachel Crin had declined to meet with them – not that Nick had expected a message from a random fox on FetLick, whose profile picture said some interesting things about his taste in fashion, would pique the interest of an adult film star, no matter how professional he’d kept it – but she hadn’t had a MuzzleBook profile like Julia, and anyway, the llama was at least quiet. She was probably 9 feet tall, but the kind of delicate you could only find in anorexics and other ill mammals. She looked a bit like a skeleton, but Nick still found her towering height somewhat intimidating, not that he’d say it aloud.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Nick offered genuinely as he and Judy sat on the edge of her couch. It was large enough to fit ten more of the pair, and he felt as though he was going to fall in. To make Julia feel comfortable, Judy had accepted a cookie, but declined tea; there was no way she could drink from a cup that big. Even Nick would have trouble, and he was only half Julia’s size.

“I’m surprised you’re looking into this,” she replied, voice thin and wispy like cotton candy. It was exactly the kind of voice Nick had imagined she would have. “When I called the police…”

“Let me guess,” Judy said, frowning, “they said they didn’t have time for ghost stories?”

Julia nodded, and Nick joined Judy in her frown. What was Judy’s beloved ZPD doing? They were supposed to look into thefts and assaults – scaring someone was definitely assault, regardless of how stupid it looked from the outside – because those were _crimes._ Something didn’t add up, and Nick made a mental note to try to get a contact on the force. He’d planned on using Judy when she graduated, but they needed one now, apparently.

“Tell us about what happened,” Nick said. “Start anywhere, as long as we get the whole story. Don’t worry about sounding strange; whatever it is, we’re going to believe you.”

Julia’s shoulders slumped in relief and Nick realized that she’d been waiting for the part where they laughed in her face. It was a ridiculous story; _robbed by a ghost_ sounded like a Nancy Shrew mystery. She took a sip and then began, “I work late shifts at a diner in the Canals. It’s a bit of a commute, but I have to eat and pay rent while I wait for my big break. Two weeks ago, I came home at about two in the morning and got undressed for my shower when I heard my window break. I put my robe on and went out into the living room, and...God, it was disgusting. I don’t know what it was, really. A monster. _Fiona_ says it was a ghost, but I know it wasn’t.”

“How do you know,” Judy asked curiously.

“Because I hit it with a baseball bat.”

Nick blinked. “Really?”

“Hey, I’m a female who lives alone in a not-so-great part of town,” Julia answered, defensive. Nick held up his paws and her face smoothed out. “It was that or a foam-covered PVC staff my ex-boyfriend used for LARPing. He was a total creep though. Kicked his nasty tail out, but I kept his staff. Makes a good conversation piece.”

Judy tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her snort of laughter. “So you hit it? What happened next?”

“Well, it left. It didn’t steal anything _that_ time.”

This was new information, potentially useful information. Although Fiona Hamford’s home invasion had only happened a few days prior, the thief hadn’t come back. Was it planning on returning, or was Julia special in some way? Nick didn’t know, but he could certainly pump the llama for details while he had her in front of him. “But it stole from you another time?”

“Yeah, it’s come back twice since then. Once I only saw it through my window – freaked me out, I went to stay with my friend Angel for a couple of days, and when I came back my broken TV was gone – and the second time, it woke me up with some gurgles and stole a bag of chips from my kitchen. Look, I know the stuff isn’t worth anything. It’s not really about the theft. I just...don’t feel safe.”

“That’s understandable.” Nick looked at Judy, who shrugged and took another nibble at the edge of her cookie. He rolled his eyes. Thanks for nothing, Partner. “Did your friend Angel see anything?”

“Not at my place, no, but it haunted her too.” Julia’s brow wrinkled. “Which is weird, because she’s the least superstitious mammal I know. If anyone could just...pretend a nightmare monster out of existence, it would be Angel. She skips straight over skepticism and into denial. If I were that creature, I wouldn’t waste my time on someone who would rather believe she’s having psychotic hallucinations than believe I exist, you know?”

“And did the intruder take anything from her?”

“Yeah. Money.”

“We should meet Angel,” said Judy suddenly. “Would you be willing to introduce us?”

It was a sound request. The more accounts they got, the more complete their story would be. Thus far, it was sounding less like a thief, and more like some dipshit who liked to scare mammals. The intruder was likely to be male – not a certainty, but based on statistics and whatever psychology Nick had managed to absorb from how-to guides and bad TV – and the spectrum of individuals targeted probably ruled out species bias, but that wasn’t a sure thing.

Julia looked at Judy for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess she’ll probably talk to you. Foxes aren’t all that well-liked in society, especially by rabbits, but…”

A beat. Judy’s expression during Julia’s silence was like a smile of delight was trying to punch out her consternation at the implied prejudice against Nick. “Angel’s a rabbit? Neat!”

“No, of course she’s not a _rabbit._ That’s what I’ve been saying. Under normal circumstances I’m betting she wouldn’t talk to _you,_ because she’s a vixen.”

He could tell that Judy was trying not to let her shoulders slump as she said, “This is Nick’s operation; I’m just the help. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then-”

“Then she’s shooting herself in the foot,” Nick interjected with a scowl. “Judy’s my partner. If you do introduce us, let her know that we’re _actually_ taking this case seriously, unlike the ZPD for whatever reason, and she deals with both of us.”

He and Judy had had several talks – including one borderline knock-down, drag-out argument that had only been resolved with fancy carrot cake from a bakery in Sahara Square on his end, and ridiculously overpriced coffee from overseas on her end, because they could both be prideful little shits – about speciesism, power, and social perception. Coming from Bunnyburrow, a largely homogenous community, Judy still didn’t really _get_ the disdain most mammals had for bunnies, and when she noticed it at all, she had no idea how to deal with it; instead of being angry about it, she often assumed that she, personally, had done something wrong. Nick, being a fox and therefore essentially on the bottom of the heap, had been navigating prejudice and spite his whole life, and she saw _that_ clear as day. Nick believed that Judy was too accepting of poor attitudes toward herself. She thought the same about him. Part of that was just that they cared for each other (it was so good to think that, to _know_ that) and part of it was the sad fact that focusing on someone else’s problems made your own easier to deal with, or ignore, whichever.

(The truth was, most speciesism toward bunnies was sneaky, where most speciesism toward foxes was the opposite. They weren’t comparable, just like cliff diving and going to the opera weren’t comparable.)

At times like these, sometimes Nick wished he’d never said anything, and let her live in her bubble that made her believe that she wasn’t a cute little sideshow, that there wasn’t a whole swathe of dumb bunny jokes, that she wasn’t 67% more likely to be the victim of sexual violence, because his own heart hurt less when she was just up in her righteous fury over the obvious preferential treatment she got whenever she was out with him. But he knew that sheltering someone from the truth was not an act of love, it was an act of devaluation.

Judy put her paw on his forearm. He relaxed. There was reason to be mad, but business was business, and they both wanted this venture to succeed. She’d already made her position about prejudice toward herself quite clear.

Julia looked unsettled for a moment before shrugging. “I’ll text her. I’m sure she’ll be glad to meet you in any case, Mr. Wilde.”

* * *

Evangeline Harfang did not meet them at her home, nor did she meet them at a café. Instead, she met them at Disney Park, a charming little location with a clean river winding through it, a ferris wheel made for medium-sized mammals, and too many food trucks. It was just south of the Nocturnal District, close to the northwest edge of the spiral arm of Happytown. The surrounding area was a mishmash of old poverty and new money, a shameless display of gentrification. Nick found it distasteful, but at least he didn’t have to live there.

Angel herself was fetching in her polka-dotted swing dress, sunhat, and oversized sunglasses, looking every inch the old-style movie star. When Nick, Finnick, and Judy approached, she did not look up, choosing instead to focus on feeding the pigeons. Judy hummed a few bars of an old Tom Lemur song under her breath. It was inappropriate, and Nick loved her for it.

“Hello,” Nick said, friendly voice on full-blast, “I’m Nick Wilde. These are my associates, Finnick Furson and Judy Hopps.”

“Hopps, as in Hopps Farms?” Angel did look up then, eyeing Judy thoughtfully. “Interesting. I thought you only exported from Bunnyburrow.”

“We do,” Judy replied cheerfully, sitting down next to Angel but keeping a respectful distance between them. “I’m one of the exports.”

Finnick snorted in amusement as Nick sat down on the other side of Angel. He wouldn’t join them on the bench; he preferred to stand, as he was so short. Angel quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yep, you’re looking at the first Hopps to do _anything_ outside the Tri-Burrows area. I’m more of a consultant on this case than a partner, really. If you don’t mind me asking, what have you been in? I don’t recognize your face.”

“I mostly play supporting roles,” Angel admitted, leaning back against the backrest. She didn’t seem upset to be talking to a bunny at all. “There’s not much call for a vixen in major roles, but I do all right. Sidekick in romcoms, mostly.”

“That explains it. I tend to stick to horror movies and buddy cop movies, when I have time to watch anything. Um. Sorry if this is weird, but do you want me to leave? Julia kinda gave me the impression that you would be uncomfortable talking to a bunny and I don’t want to be a bother.”

Nick frowned. He _wanted_ Judy there. She was exactly the kind of happy distraction they needed if he wanted to get Angel to talk freely. Fortunately, Angel laughed and replied, “Jules is protective of me. We’re all protective of each other, honestly, but Jules and I are like sisters. _One hare_ gives me trouble and she thinks all bunnies are going to freak me out. I have a can of Fox-Away in my purse, though, just in case.”

Judy blinked in confusion. Finnick snarled, having personal knowledge of how much it hurt to be sprayed with that stuff. Nick asked, “Come again?”

“It’s useful,” Angel explained casually. “Attacker gets an eyeful of pepper spray, fox gets away. Fox-Away.”

There were so many things wrong with that Nick didn’t even know where to start, but he hadn’t set up a meeting to talk about ironic misuse of speciesist products, so he grinned and said, “See, Finn? Told you we could’ve made a fortune with Perv-Away.”

The vixen smiled sideways at Nick and jerked her thumb in his direction. “This guy gets it.”

“Nick usually does,” Judy confirmed, “which is why we’re here. He has questions and we think you might have answers.”

“By all means, ask away, then.”

Nick took her in quickly. Like Julia, she was thin, but she lacked the sickly quality the llama had worn like a shroud. Her muzzle was soft, with pristine whiskers and gleaming fangs beneath shapely black lips, and her claws were filed to clean little points. All that added to her dark sense of humor, she reminded him of his mother, and some little piece of him bristled. This was not a vixen to be underestimated. “Describe your attacker, in as much detail as you can.”

She faced him fully and fluttered her lashes, paw to her chest. “Aren’t you going to say please?”

He kept his expression neutral and turned the question back on her. “Don’t you want the bastard caught?”

“Of course I want it caught. If someone doesn’t get it, I’ll have to punch it, and I might break a nail. Or it might break my face. But why _you,_ Mr. Wilde? Why not the ZPD?”

“I was hoping you could answer that question, but I guess not.” Nick shrugged. “They seem to be under the impression that this is just a silly ghost story, for whatever reason. Should I assume you don’t remember much about the intruder?”

“I was drunk,” she said bluntly. “I’d gone out with my girls. A little booze, a little dancing, you know how it is. I was three shots past tipsy, well into tailhole territory, and there was this _thing_ in my apartment. It kept gurgling at me. At first I thought my last drink had been drugged or something, but then I realized it was just some dick in a mask. I tried to remove it – the mask, I mean, not the dick – but it didn’t come off, and it – the dick, not the mask – told me to give over my wallet. It was using some kind of voice changer. So I gave it my wallet, not that it did the thing much good. I always hide my ID and my cards in my garters when I go out, because I might play a ditz on screen but my mama didn’t raise an idiot. Then I called it a name I won’t say in front of a fine lady and kicked it in the shins.”

Nick looked over at Finnick, who against all odds was managing to look sweet and vaguely menacing at the same time. It was the height, probably. Judy could do the same thing, when called upon, though she didn’t like to. (Nick assumed he could probably look cute and menacing to a wolf, but it wasn’t like he’d ever asked one, because that would be weird.) Finnick jerked his thumb at something Nick couldn’t see from his position at Angel’s side, but Nick didn’t react. Instead, he put on an easy smile and said, “Sounds like a solid course of action to me. You didn’t come alone, did you?”

“You think I’m nuts? Strange guy asks to meet me to talk about a weird thing that happened when I was drunk, and I’m just supposed to meet him by myself? Nah, I brought my brother. He’s skulking around somewhere.”

Nick winced. The internalized speciesism was strong with this one. Either that, or she was deliberately baiting him. There wasn’t a reason to do so, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t doing it. “Did your brother see the intruder?”

“Do I look like the kind of vixen who lives with her brother?”

“I’ve never met a vixen who lives with her brother,” he said easily, “so I have no idea. But I’ll take that as a no. I do have one more question, though. Could be relevant, maybe it’s a stupid question, but you mentioned that you’re “all” protective of “each other” when you talked about Ms. Root. Who is included in “all” and have they been threatened as well?”

“I…” Her eyes widened. “Yeah, actually. There’s me and Jules, then Rachel Crin – she’s a lioness – and Wanda Spottson and Donna Lister. And I guess Fiona Hamford, when she’s not too good for the rest of us. We’re all Eden Rose’s girls.”

“Who’s Eden Rose?”

“Our agent.” Angel pointed to her chest. “I knew Fiona before she was Gwen Mudsen, you know. Out of all of us, it’s really only Jules who isn’t getting parts, but that’s not her fault. Her creepy ex-boyfriend once showed up and told the casting director that he would be an idiot for not hiring Jules...and threatened to _eat_ him, which if you knew Lloyd  you’d find hilarious...and now she’s a joke. I don’t know any of the boys, but Eden has a good eye, so I’m sure they do all right too.”

“So all of Eden Rose’s female clients are getting threatened and stolen from,” Nick summarized, giving Judy a significant look.

“Yeah, but...this seems like a weird method of getting to her. Through being a pest to her clients? What if she just...didn’t care about us?”

Nick gave Judy another look, a pleading one. He was investigating the case, so he needed her to be the jerk. She seemed to pick up on his hint – thank _God,_ she wasn’t always good at that – and put a small paw on Angel’s upper arm. “Is it at all possible that...Ms. Rose is the one doing this somehow? I know you say that it was some, um... _dick..._ in a mask, but the intruder has escalated a lot with each incident. So much so that Fiona Hamford thinks it was a real ghost, presumably because of technology.”

“And because of all the drugs she does.” Angel snorted and rolled her eyes. “If she _wasn’t_ seeing things, I’d be surprised. I mean I can’t blame her; the stress gets to be too much and not everybody can stick to a little weed and wine. But, uh, maybe don’t take that part of her statement too seriously. Someone did break in, but I bet she was still seeing dancing lights or whatever. As for Eden, _no way._ Even if she didn’t care about us as mammals, we’re her product. She gets paid when we get hired. Messing with us would be messing with her own interests. Plus, she got a visit too. Last night.”

This was much more helpful than anything they’d gotten from Julia. Nick took over the questioning. “From the dick?”

“I’m not sure. She just said she couldn’t meet up with me today because she had to go make a report at the station.”

“Did, uh…” Nick searched for a sensitive way to bring it up, realized there _was_ no sensitive way, and just went for it. “Did you report the break-in?”

“Of course not. I’m not an idiot,” she replied scornfully.

Judy folded into herself, and Nick felt like a jerk, but it was one of those things. Foxes, even mildly successful ones like Angel, didn’t trust cops. It was easier to just find support from their own community than to risk getting on some bigot’s radar. It wasn’t every cop, but enough of them that the risk was greater than the reward. Nick knew for a fact that Judy was solid, and he trusted that she would verbally open fire on anyone in her department who discarded a fox’s report off-paw, but the rest of them were not to be trusted.

“Wilde, I gotta talk to you. Text from Fiona,” Finnick said, and Angel’s left ear flicked. Nick sighed. That was fox-signal for interest, and without knowing her, he couldn’t tell if it was interest in gossip or interest in _him._ He hoped it was the first.

“Ca – Judy, do you mind keeping Angel company?”

“Only so long as Angel doesn’t mind,” she replied cheekily. “You don’t mind, do you, Angel?”

“Oh, I think I can stomach a bunny for a while,” Angel cracked. Crude. And a little creepy. Judy, however, didn’t seem to mind; she laughed along with the actress and waved Nick off.

Nick followed Finnick, who was already calling Fiona from his phone. They went far enough away from the bench that Nick couldn’t hear Judy and Angel talking. Judy could probably still hear them, and Finnick could probably still hear Judy, but alas, the two red foxes would miss out.

“Good, you got my text,” said Fiona, instead of doing the normal thing and saying hello. Or at least saying her name.

“I have you on speaker with Nick,” Finnick replied. “What’s up?”

“Well, two things. One, whatever that monstrosity was in that picture you sent, _no,_ it wasn’t what broke into my place. Two, my agent just called and told me she’s _leaving town_ because of this. What did you _do?”_

“We ain’t done nothin,” Finnick told her, rolling his eyes at Nick, who shared the sentiment. Ugh, famous mammals. Everything was a drama-fest. “She didn’t tell ya? She got a visit from the monster too.”

“And it isn’t a ghost or a monster or anything,” Nick added. “Were you compromised in any way?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning...tired? Drunk? Otherwise chemically altered?”

“Not enough to mimic a psychotic episode. I know what I saw, Mr. Wilde. If it’s not a ghost, great; I’m glad. It would be _really_ annoying to have to apologize to that jerk who always leaves mean comments.”

Nick snorted. Finnick punched him in the thigh. Nick pinched Finnick’s ear. By silent mutual agreement, the tussle ended there, because fighting on the job wasn’t exactly professional.

“We’re lookin into it, and we’ll keep ya updated,” Finnick promised Fiona.

“Okay. Just let me know. Talk to you later.”

“...Yeah.” The line was already dead. Looking lost, Finnick turned to Nick and asked, “Did that seem weird?”

“No, Finn, it’s totally normal for an actress to call you on the cell phone Judy had to bully you into getting, and there’s nothing weird about talking about drugs and ghosts in the middle of a family-friendly park.”

“Fuck off, you know that ain’t what I meant. Whatever. We don’t get back to your girlfriend soon, someone’s gonna end up eaten, and I doubt it’ll be the bunny.”

Nick followed Finnick back to the bench, where Judy and Angel were giggling together. At least they were enjoying themselves; he’d worried that Julia was perhaps not misreading her friend, but it looked like it was just a case of overprotectiveness after all. Judy’s ears turned toward them and she said, “Hey, Slick! Show Angel that thing you do with your tongue.”

Finnick choked and Nick sighed. Of _course_ Judy would bring that up. “I’m not doing it, Carrots.”

“Pleeeeeease?”

“No, I’m not making myself into a sideshow just to amuse your new friend.”

Judy shrugged. “You’ll just have to take my word for it, I guess. I bet they just got news; Nick has on his I-have-an-idea face. You’ll text me Ms. Rose’s number?”

Angel looked between Nick and Judy with a calculating look on her face, before settling into a mischievous grin. She stood and approached Nick, getting too close for comfort. “Tell you what. I’ll get you in with Eden, if _you_ get me a good date.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “I’m not, uh...I’m not a casual dater.”

“Good for you.” She stepped back. “I prefer grays to reds, darling. Judy’s been telling me about you, and your business, and your associates. I’m sure you can think of _something_ for one evening.”

She flipped his tie and left, swaying her hips, to the tune of Judy’s laughter. Finnick, ever the opportunist, offered, “Ian. Ian’s a gray, and he’s single.”

Judy’s smile dropped. “That’s not-”

“Yeah,” Nick answered. The fennec had a point. “I mean he’s a giant horndog, but he can be charming when he wants to be. I’ve seen it.”

“No, seriously, guys-”

Finnick nodded. “We can ask him. Doubt he’d say no to a date with a flirty actress.”

“Ugh.” Judy turned on her heel. “I have to go study. Come find me when you’ve failed horribly.”

She stalked off, obviously annoyed, leaving Nick with no clue about why. Well, he and Finnick would do some information hunting and talk to Ian. Either Judy would be right about _whatever_ and she’d have gloating rights, or they’d be right about Ian and he’d have gloating rights. Either way, after some time to cool off, Judy would be fine.

Plus, it was true: she needed to study, and so did he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tom Lemur" is, of course, a reference to Tom Lehrer, a mathematician and musical comedian who used cynicism and irony to create darkly humorous songs...when he wasn’t researching or teaching. (Excuse me, I'LL BE IN MY BUNK.) The song Judy hums can be found [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhuMLpdnOjY) I think that the part mentioning squirrels can probably be changed to lizards; despite being anti-racism and quite liberal beneath his satire, this particular song was all play and no work, so singing about poisoned squirrels would be out of place.


	3. Sleek and Slick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy and Nick are sllllllick.

Eden Rose was a sleek ocelot with pierced ears and sharp eyes. Aside from representing several reasonably successful actresses (and some actors, Nick assumed), she also had one movie under her own belt, albeit a shitty direct-to-video B movie about vampires who were really aliens who were really time travelers who were really vampires all along. Whoever had written it had probably been on more drugs than Fiona Hamford, and Eden had only done a bit part as a screaming victim of the time traveling alien vampire things.

Nick wanted to watch it _desperately._

The ocelot agent had a website advertising her services as well as a private MuzzleBook page. Judging by the profile preview picture, she had at least one child. She looked...reasonably happy, and definitely professional.

“See, look,” Finnick said, holding out his phone for the gray fox to take. They were all sequestered in the Wilde Investigations office, Finnick standing on a stool so he could be a little nearer Nick’s height. Ian was sitting on the desk, lazily swinging his feet. He made a face as he took the phone, something between frustrated and despair, which was a weird reaction from someone who seemed to pant after every female except Judy. He looked at the profile picture and shrugged. “Not my type.”

“Not your – seriously? She looks just like that other vixen, from the shop,” Finnick replied in disbelief. “They could be sisters.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to date anyone. Maybe I’m just looking for a good time.”

“Maybe she’d give you a good time if ya gave her a chance.”

Nick stood by and watched thoughtfully. For all Ian’s boasting, he’d never actually been with any females since Nick had known him, and he’d never been disrespectful around actual females, only _about_ them out of earshot. He hadn’t been looking before, but now that he thought about it…

“Do you even _like_ females, Ian?” The gray gave him an _are you stupid_ look, and Nick clarified, “Wrong question. Do you even want to sleep with anyone at all?”

“I mean, who doesn’t?”

“I didn’t,” he said bluntly, “not until I was already dating Judy. I thought it was a thing stupid mammals did when they were bored. And I still don’t want to sleep with anyone other than her. So it’s not like you’d be the only one aboard the weird ship.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t get shit for it? Really?”

“There’s been a lot more in my life to give me shit over, but yeah, I had a couple of relationships that went nowhere, and my ex Marian told all of her friends I had _performance anxiety,_ so the only ones who really wanted to date me thought I’d be a _safe_ option.” Nick laughed genuinely; it all seemed so stupid in retrospect. And it had left him open to date Judy, so who’d really won in the end? “I didn’t let it get to me.”

“You were lucky to have that option. This is Zootopia. Where I grew up, males were good for two things: sex, and entertainment. Sports, I mean. I was bad at the latter and didn’t want the former, so...you know, you get into a persona, and it becomes part of you.”

“Is that where the...you know...disrespect comes from?”

“Nobody wants a straight guy who disrespects females. So all I had to do was make myself undesirable. It wasn’t that hard, even in a fox town,” Ian told them. “Look, I don’t really want this getting out. It was bad enough when I had a girl try to “fix” me, and that was back when we were innocent. I can’t take your actress on a date. Sorry, but that’s not me.”

“Well we ain’t gonna _make_ ya,” Finnick said with a shrug, taking his phone back, “but this leaves us at square one.”

“Sorry to be completely unhelpful. I’m honestly surprised Judy didn’t tell you,” Ian replied. He jumped off the desk and moved toward the door. “You know, she may not always know how to take a hint, but she’s pretty perceptive when she puts her mind to it.”

So _that_ was what Judy had meant. Now Nick felt a little foolish for brushing her off the day before. He hadn’t seen her at all since then; she’d come in late, after he’d fallen asleep, and had barely said two words to him that morning when she’d rushed off (presumably to study or go to the gym). He pulled out his own phone to text her.

_Sorry for not listening._

_Where are you?_

After a few moments of no response, his phone finally dinged.

_On a date_

_With Angel_

_Which was the point_

_Do you want to pick me up?_

_The Velveteen Buckhouse_

Logically, Nick knew that Judy wasn’t dating Evangeline Harfang. She wasn’t cheating on him. She was doing what Angel had asked and giving her a nice date at a nice restaurant, and when she was done she’d probably have a phone number for Eden Rose. But there was a part of him – a silly but _deep_ part of him – that worried, because if Judy realized how much better she could have it...why would she stay with him? Angel was flirtatious, and her smile was gorgeous, and she was –

_no no no_

– he couldn’t think like this. It was the kind of pointless shit that made relationships unnecessarily complicated. He missed his girlfriend, but he trusted her. She had never lied about her intentions, at least not with him, and just six months prior she had collared him. They were solid. He texted back, trying to stay logical.

_I’ll be there in 20._

* * *

The Velveteen Buckhouse was a fancy little place that only served breakfast and lunch. Run by a family of deer, it had an all-vegetarian menu, though there were meat substitutes that Nick found a bit repulsive. Veggie burgers were fine, but when they were supposed to mimic rabbit or cow…

If she’d been on a date with Nick, she’d probably have been eating “rabbit stew” right now. The meat substitute itself was made primarily from enokitake and some ungodly number of sticky, robust ingredients, and nobody really knew if it tasted like rabbit or not _because that was disgusting,_ but Judy had a sick sense of humor. (Nick’s theory was that bunnies on farms tended to be far more aware of their own mortality, and it was kind of a “laugh so you don’t cry” mentality. According to her, all it took to skin a bunny was a deep enough cut to the ankle and some upward pressure, after all.)

Surprisingly, when Nick got a glimpse of her through the window, she only had a salad in front of her. When she grinned, she had something stuck to her teeth, and a dark brown paw darted out to scrape it off with a claw. Her eyes went wide and she bit her lower lip, ears perking up in a way that almost looked painful. After a moment, she laughed from her gut. How long had it been since she’d laughed like that with _him?_ How long had it been since he’d even heard her laugh, _really_ laugh, instead of force out air at something she found mildly amusing? Was he... _boring_ her?

No. He didn’t have the time to think like this. Nick wasn’t a jealous mammal; jealousy was both pointless and creepy. Judy was doing her self-appointed job to help him with his increasingly ridiculous case, nothing more. He went to the front of the restaurant and let himself in through the small mammals door cut into the bottom of the larger door. Once inside, Nick made a beeline for Judy’s table, ducking behind a larger server’s leg to hide himself from the host. The Buckhouse wasn’t known for being anti-fox, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have to explain why he was crashing someone else’s date. Or talk to anyone. Or even look anyone in the eye.

Judy waved to him when she caught sight of him. Angel’s pointed face appeared from behind the tall booth. Her smile was warm enough; obviously she’d been having fun. Was it because she was _attracted_ to Judy, or because Judy was just a lot of fun to hang out with?

(Did it matter? Either he trusted Judy, or he didn’t.)

“Hey,” he said with faux enthusiasm. “Having fun?”

“You can say that again,” Judy chirped. He fought to keep his easy smile on his face. “Angel’s been telling me about the Nocturnal District. Did you know there are actually _26_ clubs in that little area? Some mammals even live above them! I can’t imagine how awful that must be. Even worse than living next to the Bucky and Pronk Show.”

“Yes, that _does_ sound terrible.” Wow, the phony was so out and proud that Judy would have to be _dead_ in order to miss it. Sure enough, her smile slipped. He leaned against the table and focused on Angel. “Aren’t you lucky to have a date with my partner.”

“Yeah, I am,” Angel replied, steely-voiced and flint-eyed. “Of course, you’d be more than welcome to join us, but we’ve already paid and I have another audition in an hour. Never stop hustling, am I right?”

Nick had no idea if she was calling him out or just using a common term, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way he was feeling, either. It was shameful and irritating. He shrugged. “I just came to pick up Judy. I wish you luck at your audition.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wilde.” Angel granted Judy another smile and held up her phone. “I got you a reservation at the Gardens. Eden should meet you there at about four.”

“Awesome! Thanks,” Judy replied genuinely. Of course, most of Judy’s interactions were genuine. He was being a jerk for basically no reason. He _really_ needed to get a handle on this.

Nick and Judy left the restaurant surrounded by stiff quiet, though Nick had no idea if Judy felt the same. Angel was already gone by the time they got out the door, but Judy didn’t seem upset. What was _wrong_ with him? He...missed her. She was there, but she wasn’t, and maybe it was a bigger problem than he’d thought, but how was he supposed to bring it up when he was too irritated to be reasonable about it?

“We should go there together again before I go back to the academy,” she offered to him. “It’s a little expensive but...I miss doing things with you. I think I can probably take a little out of my savings to splurge on a nice dinner.”

“Oh, really? You miss doing things with me,” Nick said, and then he blurted, “but do you miss _me?”_

And _there_ it was. Nick wasn’t usually a fan of talking without thinking, but in this case it had been useful. He wasn’t jealous of Angel. He was worried about his relationship with Judy. Even if he wasn’t worried about losing her to someone else, he was worried about losing what they had. Judy had taught him, in a roundabout way, what it was like to be optimistic, and now he didn’t just have something to believe in, he had something to lose. It wasn’t wrong to be afraid of that.

“Of course I miss you, Nick. I...is there something I’ve been doing, or haven’t been doing, to give you the impression that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me? _Are_ doing for me?”

“I know you appreciate me. It’s not about appreciation.” Why was explaining so hard? “I hardly see you even though you’re _home,_ and we don’t even have sex anymore! It’s like you’re not really home after all.”

Her face clouded. “I didn’t think you wanted – I didn’t think that was important to you. I won’t deny I’ve been spending a lot of time studying, maybe _too_ much time, but I thought you were happy with the cuddling. I’m sorry?”

“It’s not important to me, except that it’s important to _you,_ and so if we’re not doing that doesn’t it indicate that there’s a problem? Don’t you trust me enough to talk about it?”

She stopped and pulled him over to the side, where they wouldn’t be seen by pedestrians, and wrapped her arms around him. He carefully put his paws on her upper and lower back, trying not to snag his claws on her thick sweater. It...wasn’t very appropriate for the summer weather. Quietly, after nuzzling his chest for a moment, she said, “If you can wait until tonight, I’ll explain myself. I haven’t been fair to you. It’s not your fault. I don’t even think it’s my fault, but if you’re not in on it...anyway, let’s go back to the office. Angel set us a meeting with Eden Rose at 4 in the Tea Garden’s private room, which means another food place...really we should set up better meetings, but I’ll take what we can get...so we have some time to kill. Let’s rendezvous with Finnick, go over what we know, and then meet Eden. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” he confirmed. He considered apologizing, but until he knew what the apology would even be for, he didn’t think it was appropriate.

* * *

Once, he’d assumed that he would never need another living soul, because in his experience, others just let you down. He had since realized that the “tortured loner” kind of thinking was as annoying as it was self-involved. It was certainly fine to be on your own; it was good to have alone time, to get perspective. But where was the line between self-indulgent whining and genuine self-reflection?

For Nick, that line was usually well-established, and Judy was always there to keep him from crossing it. He was allowed to wallow, even hate himself, but she didn’t tolerate negative self-talk for very long, and he couldn’t blame her. She loved him (this thought always made him embarrassingly giddy, almost kit-like) and nobody liked hearing someone bag on the things (or mammals) they loved.

Jealousy was ugly and possessive, and Nick felt like a heel for the way he’d reacted to Angel, especially knowing that Judy had a reason for being distant. He wanted to make it up to her – _needed_ to – but he couldn’t think properly, not right then, not with what was going on at the moment. Judy was quick and smart and good at making everyone she met see a brighter side of things. Sometimes keeping him away from the line meant scolding him. Other times…

Well, he barely even understood how they’d gotten to this place, but there they were, with his back to the wall, his pants down around his knees, and her paws all over him. He wasn’t going to complain, but he did make a hazy note to reciprocate sometime in the near future.

“Don’t move,” she said, putting her paws on his hips. He jerked involuntarily as her lips touched him and she pinched his thigh between her nails. “I mean it, Nick. You’ll get hurt by my teeth and – if you go in too far – probably damage my jaw.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, _sotto voce,_ and dug his claws into the wall behind him as she licked the head of his penis, dragging her tongue around it and using her paws to keep him ready for her. All it had taken was a few suggestive phrases, a stern look, and half a paw job after the tea had been delivered, and normally he’d be embarrassed about that, but he could only focus on the way her mouth moved, providing wet heat and soft stimulus. She sucked his penis into her mouth, carefully covering her long teeth with her lips. He groaned, falling into the sensation, and she pinched his thigh again. Right. No loud noises. They weren’t in public, exactly, up against the wall in the tea room, but they certainly weren’t in private either.

She established eye contact, her gaze intense as he watched his penis disappear little by little into a mouth that hadn’t been built to do this at all. Was the risk of getting hurt actually real? He wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or if the necessity of restraint made it even hotter. It was often like this with Judy, the jagged edges of anxiety turning into something pleasurable, a thrill he couldn’t get enough of. He knew what they had was borderline indecent to a lot of folks –

and _oh God_ she could take a ridiculous amount of him, _swallow swallow swallow,_ right, bunnies didn’t have gag reflexes, there was more than just warm thrill here _he was going to explode this was amazing_ and he had to be good and _not move_ and his chesty whine was most definitely not voluntary her mouth was warm he was _on fire_

– and he probably didn’t deserve this attention, but she didn’t seem to have gotten the memo about his jealous behavior. As for the indecency, neither of them cared what other mammals thought, as long as it didn’t get violent. Judy could probably take down a wolf if she had to, maybe even something bigger, and Nick could hold his own against mammals his own size, but what if there were multiple aggressors –

the nails on her left paw dug into his left hip as her sucking and swallowing intensified, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth, and her elbow pushed down on his right hip, and the pressure came at just the right moment since his hips attempted a great _jerk_ when she moved her right paw to massage his perineum, and the little shit _hummed_ like she’d known he’d react that way, and he growled down at her but it turned into a keen halfway through anyway when she did something swoopy with her tongue and how the fuck was she having so much fun with his cock in her mouth?

Thought fuzzed out like bad AM reception as she continued, the zing of pleasure overriding his need to check the time, the wet sloppy sounds of her suction gonging in his ears, and he was falling through a stretch of void where nothing existed except her mouth and her paws and her commanding gaze, and then…

Saliva pooled under Nick’s tongue as Judy swallowed the mess he’d made of her mouth, and through his panting and post-orgasm shakes he sort of recognized that the drip at the corner of her smile was partially made up of his semen. _Oh God._ She wiped her mouth with a paw, looked at it, grinned wickedly, and then licked her palm and fingers clean.

“I want you to know,” she said as she stood, reaching up to pat the side of his muzzle with her still-wet paw. How could something so gross be so erotic at the same time? He’d never get that particular sex question answered, probably. “You’re the only mammal I have done and would _ever_ do that for. Nobody could ever measure up to you. I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to leave you unless you asked me to.”

“Sex isn’t supposed to be a weapon,” he said weakly, not managing a truly accusatory tone. He knew that wasn’t what was going on, but he wasn’t sure how to answer the question in her voice. He didn’t know what the question was, only that there was one, and he didn’t know how to ask, either. He was acutely aware that his jealousy, and his presentation of it, had been the exact kind of thing she loved him for _not_ doing, and he was probably only off the hook because she felt bad about whatever it was she thought she’d done.

She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t do that, and I know you don’t think that. Is it really so hard to believe you’re worth more to me than you think you are?”

 _Sometimes,_ he wanted to say, but he didn’t say it because if nothing else, Judy was honest. She believed what she was saying. In a swell of gratitude, his paw went up to pluck at his collar. Hers joined his. Her whole paw could barely fit around two of his fingers, but he liked that. He glanced at her mouth and, in lieu of complaining about how much she liked him (because that would be lame), cocked his head to the side. “Wait, you said you’d never done that before. No way you’re just naturally good at it.”

She shrugged. “I practiced on a toy first. I...practiced a lot, actually. Watched some amateur videos, got some tips on a forum, practiced some more. Had to make sure it would work before I tried it on you. I’m not keen to go to the ER for a sex-related mishap, are you?”

“No,” he replied through a shaky laugh, because _of course_ that was her answer. “No, I’m not. But how did you practice swallowing? Wasn’t that disgusting?”

“I didn’t practice _that._ It was a little disgusting, sure, but so is oatmeal, and I’ve eaten that before. Don’t think about it, Nick. Unless _you’re_ interested in eating it next time, in which case, it’s probably workable, but we’ll have to get very, _very_ creative.”

Only Judy could make him laugh during one of his typical guilt sessions, within a couple of minutes after such a powerful orgasm, one which was _still_ sending little shocks through his stomach muscles, but it felt good. He could relax with her, something that had worried him initially. He didn’t have to look good for her, or impress her, or do anything at all except...be himself, unless he wanted to be better. And somehow, he always did want to be better. Not for her, since she didn’t expect it, but for the personal satisfaction of defying his own expectations, expectations he wouldn’t even _have_ if he didn’t also have something to lose. Pleasing Judy was just a nice bonus.

The guilt eased. This was her method of reassurance. She wanted him. He owed it to them both to stop sabotaging the moment.

He was about to inform her of such, but her ear turned and her eyes widened. “Oh, sweet cheese and crackers, Nick, pull up your pants! Sit down! Crap, do you have a mint? I thought we had at least 15 more minutes!”

Nick scrambled to do as she’d said, struggling with the zipper of his slacks that kept getting stuck on his boxers and wincing at the friction on his still-sensitive penis. Dammit, _of course_ he’d have trouble when time was so important. If the agent got here before they looked presentable, it could have a negative effect on the case. It _would_ have – finally, the zipper went up all the way and Nick slipped the button into the buttonhole. He went down on his knees at the table as Judy spritzed the air (and herself, and him) with a spray that smelled like jasmine, and _oh,_ that was why she’d ordered jasmine tea, she’d _planned this._

Sneaky little shit.

“You do all the talking,” she whispered, “at least until I’ve had a cup of tea.”

“Good call,” he whispered back.

“And try to get that dopey look off your face, or she’ll think you have a crush.”

Nick laughed and didn’t bother to try to school his expression. Instead, he turned a look of adoration on Judy, making sure to time it so that Ms. Rose would see it coming in. Better to simply look smitten with Judy than to try to convince Eden he wasn’t feeling it at all. Sometimes, the truth was a better lie than anything else.

The ocelot who came through the door was not the ocelot Nick had seen on her agency website. She was unkempt, frazzled; her suit was in style and perfectly pressed, but the dichotomy between her body and her clothes made her look like walking photoshop. Nick had a good enough eye, from growing up learning about fashion from his father (until his untimely demise) and the aspects of grooming relevant to grifting from his mother, to know that her pearl earrings were not part of the same set that her pearl necklace came from. She was still undeniably beautiful, but she looked realer. Certainly more exhausted.

She _smelled_ like roses and old milk. Nick suspected the rose scent was supposed to cover up the milk scent. At least the perfume wasn’t the cheap kind that overwhelmed everyone in the general vicinity.

“Sorry for my tardiness,” she said, kneeling across from Nick and Judy at the low table. “I’m dealing with three disasters right now.”

“Oh,” Nick returned, keen to know what these disasters were, if only to rule out relevance to their case. “What kind of disasters?”

“Work, mostly, though I just got back from dealing with a personal issue at the police station.”

A clue? Or just a coincidence? “What happened, if you don’t mind saying?”

Judy, mouth tightly closed but turned up at the corners in a polite smile, poured tea for the three of them. The teacups were perfectly sized for Nick and Eden, but a bit large for Judy; that was probably for the best. He couldn’t imagine her breath smelled innocent. Or pleasant, for that matter. The more jasmine tea to smother it, the better.

Eden frowned at Judy, who was still busy with the pouring, and asked him, “Is she...like your personal assistant or a servant or something?”

“Uh, _no,”_ he replied, unable to keep the condescension out of his voice. “I don’t know what kind of crazy ideas you have in the Nocturnal District, but servants aren’t a thing amongst us common folk. This is my _partner,_ Judy Hopps.”

“You never know, with traditionalists,” Eden said, shrugging. She ignored her tea and gave him a conspiratorial look. “You’d be surprised at how many rabbits come to the District looking for stardom and end up in maid services or what have you. It’s not really their fault they’re too sssssimp-” Her eyes darted to the side and she forced a smile. “Too _small_ for anything that isn’t niche.”

Yeah, Nick _had_ noticed that rabbits had very little representation. Even _Bunny the Vampire Slayer,_ something unusually progressive for its time, had starred an Arctic hare nearly as tall as Nick. Only mammals who’d never learned that there was more than one species of bunny believed that the actress was a rabbit like the show pretended. “Dumb bunny” stereotypes aside, small mammals didn’t generally get to perform on screen, as they were hard to capture in the same shot as the larger mammals that usually made up movie and television casts. There had been a lot of noise about diversity in media, but thus far, nothing had really changed beyond some superficial overtures. Prevailing casting attitudes were circular: there were no mainstream movies with small mammal casts because most established actors were medium-to-large, and because most established actors were medium-to-large there wasn’t a realistic way to incorporate small mammals, and there weren’t a lot of small mammals trying to get into acting, so it was better to keep it exclusive.

(He wasn’t actually sure where he’d picked up that tidbit of information. News articles, maybe. Some things just stuck, especially when there were parallel problems for foxes.)

“I find it interesting that you’re representing a vixen,” he said, false appreciation in his tone, “considering that we’re widely believed to be illiterate.”

“Some stereotypes are cruel,” Eden answered, comically oblivious to the hypocrisy. “Can Ms. Hopps not speak?”

“I can speak just fine,” Judy said cheerily, making sure to keep her nose tucked into her cup as much as possible, “but I like to listen. With my ears, I’m basically a walking lie detector. It’s useful in investigations.”

That...was probably accurate, although Nick hadn’t thought of it. Taking the pressure off of Judy until she could finish her tea, he guided the conversation back on track. “Speaking of investigations, I don’t know how much Angel told you, but we’ve been investigating a string of break-ins.”

“Oh, good. The ZPD is full of morons.”

Nick exchanged a concerned look with Judy. Why _wasn’t_ the ZPD taking action? It wasn’t species bias; even the most speciesist of leaders wouldn’t be able to ignore a case involving several actresses, and the actresses in question were divided along the species spectrum anyway. Some large, some small, some predators, some prey. It was starting to look less like negligence and more like interference. That...was problematic. And dangerous, he couldn’t forget dangerous.

“If I might ask, what makes you say that,” he asked carefully.

“My girls are getting scared by this mammal, whoever he is, and nobody’s _doing_ anything. Even Julia’s ex-boyfriend is doing nothing! I mean, that would be normal for an ex, but he’s still so obviously in love with her it’s embarrassing.”

“Wait. Julia’s ex is a _cop?”_

“Yeah, he’s been on the beat for _years._ Kind of a creep, kind of a slob, in dire need of anger management classes, but he’s pretty good at his job from what I hear. I’m guessing they only came to a PI because he isn’t able to do anything. Low-ranking officer, and all. If he’s the only one bothering to take it seriously, then he can’t really do anything, can he? I just wish he’d go off-script for a second. He owes Jules that, at least.”

“Because of the whole…” Nick waved his paw. “Screwing up her reputation thing?”

“That too, but I meant taking her out of commission for months to recover from the attack. She’s been skittish ever since, and now she can barely get through an audition. Certainly she can’t do any semi-nude scenes, what with the scarring.”

“Cripes,” Nick murmured, suddenly understanding that the situation was not as black-and-white as Angel had made it out to be. It was possible she didn’t know the extent of the damage. Julia hadn’t exactly been forthcoming; until now, Nick had imagined him as a four-eyed, scrawny, slightly pathetic llama who played rock-paper-scissors on the weekends to determine whether a magic missile had hit somebody. A padded PVC pipe seemed a hell of a lot more dangerous in the hooves of a police officer. Pretending this was all old news, Nick asked, “What did cause the scarring? Julia didn’t say, and if her ex is involved…”

He let the implication hang, giving Judy the smallest amount of concerned side-gaze. Eden picked up on it and grimaced. “Shears. The new style didn’t exactly help her image either. I’ll be honest, I almost dropped her; she’s not marketable right now. But Fiona and Angel teamed up to pay for me to rep her, and I’m not about to say no to free money.”

“Just to be clear,” Judy said, having finished her tea, “you were robbed as well, correct?”

“Robbed? No, that would be too straightforward.” She snorted. “Bastard waited till I was gone and wrote me a message on my daughter’s wall. Then he spent a few minutes gurgling and staring into my baby monitor. The effect of the mask is kinda ruined when the idiot wearing it sounds like he’s been starving.”

“What did the message say?”

“Read for yourself,” Eden replied, tapping at her phone and then passing it to Judy.

Nick leaned close so that he could see the message as well. It was obviously a still taken from the video on the baby monitor. Nick cringed at the sight of the “monster,” as it truly was revolting. The fangs were wrong. The eyes were too wide. There wasn’t a muzzle or even a nose, and the ears were oddly placed. It looked like someone who didn’t know what a face was supposed to look like had tried to throw one together with glue made out of nightmares. But the message on the wall behind the face was more interesting:

THEY ALL DESERVE BETTER.

“Who are they,” asked Judy, passing the phone back to Eden. “Your clients?”

“Probably. But let’s be honest, I doubt this idiot is really breaking in and scaring my girls because he thinks they deserve _better._ Whatever he wants, it’s probably based in fear.”

That was Nick’s thought, too, which made this case even more dangerous. If there was a method to the madness – an underlying reason for these erratic and frankly bizarre thefts and home invasions – then there was a trail of clues to follow, at least _somewhere._ If the goal was nebulous, though, was there a method to the madness at all? Or was it all just going to be random until the intruder messed up?


	4. Sleight of Paw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang solve the case and crack jokes.

Nick had a number of contacts left over from his street hustling days. The nice thing about that was that he had a vast information network. The not-so-nice thing was that his information network was based on currency, not mutual need or understanding. You had to give something to get something, and sometimes, what you got was worth less than what you gave.

Fortunately, Nick was good at transactions.

“Listen,” he said to the shifty-eyed polecat. Mina presumably had another name, but whatever it was, it’d been lost to time and street-standard anonymity. She edged toward the only publicly-available door of the nightclub called Underworld, but Finnick and Judy were blocking it, once more managing to look menacing and adorable. Again, Nick wished he could do that. “Nobody’s in trouble here, but you’re in with Porcino, aren’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” she replied shakily. “I’m not in with anything.”

“I’m an old friend of his, you know. From way back. You know how he feels about his friends, don’t you?”

“I…”

“I won’t tell him who sent me his way, if you don’t want,” Nick continued with a large, friendly smile, “but once I manage to find him, I’ll be sure to let him know which of his associates were _difficult.”_

“No!”

“No?”

She shook her head fiercely. “No, I’ll tell you where he’s holed up recently, just...keep my name out of it. He’s always at the Blink. There’s a – a back room, kind of. You have to ask Bill for the special reserve just to get in. They built it for, uh...when the police... _please_ don’t tell, Mr. Wilde, I can’t afford this kind of heat!”

Paul Porcino was a boar who operated within the Nocturnal District, and Nick hated him. Where Mr. Big dealt in illegal arms and good old-fashioned shakedowns, Porcino was into unregulated drugs. His strategy was to get kits hooked while they were young and then “save” them with discounted product in exchange for their services. It was the kind of unethical that Nick at his _worst_ would never have considered. Even Mr. Big, arguably the scariest, most ruthless crime boss in Zootopia’s history, didn’t do that kind of shit. Porcino’s operation was part of why the police largely looked the other way when they happened to catch some small piece of Big’s business: his associates provided the cops with certain intelligence about the way Porcino ran things.

Small mercies, where Judy was concerned; if worse came to worst, she could work with someone in Big’s operation registered as a CI. That way, she wouldn’t have to choose between her friendship with Fru-Fru and her dream career. (Though the best would, obviously, be to keep work and pleasure separate.)

“Don’t worry, Mina,” he said with another flash of teeth, “I’m not going to tell him anything about you. But for your own sake...get out, yeah? See my partner over there? She’s gonna be a cop in a year or so. I’m pretty good about keeping my word, but I can’t guarantee she won’t remember you when she’s working major crimes.”

Judy had her eye on zoicide, for whatever reason crazy mammals wanted to investigate murders – probably _the greater good_ or something Dumbleboarish like that – but Mina didn’t need to know that. She was a decent kit, 22 or so, only working for Porcino because her mom had defaulted on a loan. He’d met her when she was 19, and she was too smart for a life of organized crime. She deserved to go to college or something, and _fuck,_ he’d gone soft, hadn’t he?

“I...but…”

“Just think about it. Maybe she _won’t_ remember you. It’s your life, Kit. Now, please excuse me, I have a mob boss to con.”

She laughed. So did Nick. He wasn’t lying, for once.

Porcino had an information network to rival Nick’s own, but the difference was that Porcino was actively involved in his. The list of contacts – of mammals who owed him _favors –_ was consistently growing. Fiona Hamford, if she was on as many drugs as Angel had intimated, would have passed through his peripherals, at least, and if anyone would know of some douchebag going around terrorizing actresses, it would be the mammal who watched everyone even remotely connected to him. All Nick had to do – in theory – was make a trade.

He approached Finnick and Judy, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. Porcino was a wild card, affably volatile at the best of times and downright horrifying at the worst. But where else could they go? It was looking like someone at the police station was in on it, and this wasn’t Mr. Big’s area. Nick didn’t want to offer a favor to him and still walk away with nothing.

“Did you get the information,” Judy asked.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, “but this next part’s going to be a little...fiddly. I’m going to do the talking; Finn, I want you in the car waiting for us in case the worst happens. Judy, I want _you_ behind me at all times.”

She snorted. “Want to protect me?”

“Are you kidding? I want _you_ to protect _me._ I need you to stand there and pretend you’re my muscle.”

“I _am_ your muscle,” she quipped.

“Okay, yeah, but I mean it. Don’t fidget, don’t laugh, don’t even smile, no matter how outlandish I sound.”

As they hustled out the door, Judy asked, “And they’re actually going to take us seriously?”

Finnick fielded that particular question. “Things work a little different among _disreputable_ mammals, Bunny. Cute little thing like you-”

“Don’t call me _cute.”_

 _“Cute little thing like you_ acts as muscle for a mammal twice her size, they’ll take it at face value. As a rule, nobody uses a worthless guard. And cos you’re so small, they’re gonna be wary. A bunny, good enough to protect a fox? She’s _seen_ shit. Probably killed a couple mammals. Nobody wants a damn war.”

Finnick wasn’t wrong. Most legitimate citizens assumed that the criminal underbelly was in a perpetual state of chaotic lawlessness, but it just wasn’t operating under the same social jurisdiction. If you were a big enough player, you could get away with murder, literally, and more often than not, so-called “free agents” were secretly contracted _by_ big players. Maybe even capital-B Big. It made for a sort of cold war, which was better for everyone, involved or not.

Judy blinked, and then a slow smile made its way across her face. “I picked the wrong career! Nobody’s taking me seriously at the ZPA, other than Major Friedkin.”

“Ha! I’ll believe you when you take the plunge,” Finnick shot back.

“Well, I-”

Whatever Judy was saying got abruptly cut off as Nick felt himself _thrown_ into an alleyway with a powerful kick whose impact left his ears ringing. His vision whited out for a few moments, and then – when he could see again – he dragged himself upright using the brick wall beside him. Finnick was slumped against a dumpster, blinking, and Judy…

_“Judy!”_

The monster, _whatever_ it was, had Judy in a hold, sharp claws digging into her shoulder, a razor to her throat. Her nose was a-twitch and her pupils were so tiny he was having a hard time seeing them. Her breathing was sharp and...she was _scared._ This wasn’t anxiety or nervousness, this was pure, unadulterated _terror,_ and Nick wanted that look off her face. “Hey, buddy, listen, whatever you want-”

“I want you to back off,” said the thing with a voice like gargling nails.

“Okay! Yeah, we’ll back off,” Nick told it quickly. “It’s barely any money anyway. No big deal. Just let my partner go and we’re done, I swear.”

“That’s what shifty mammals like you always say. Whatever we want to hear,” it scoffed.

“You can believe me. I swear on my mama’s grave, we’ll drop the case.”

At that moment, Judy put her training to use. With a lightning-quick movement, she struck the monster’s wrist with her fist. The monster dropped the knife, but instead of dropping her, it spun around and slammed her against the wall, lifting her up by her throat. Nick watched in horror as she squirmed, desperately trying to suck in air and failing. He growled, furious, and jumped at the monster with claws and fangs at the ready. Almost as if in a trance, and fueled by rage, he dug his claws into the thing’s back and clamped his jaws on its hip at the same time that Finnick launched himself upward, using Nick’s shoulder as a springboard to go for the thing’s throat. It dropped Judy in order to deal with the two foxes, but they both let go; wisely, it left the alley at a sprint.

“I’m going back to bringin’ my baseball bat with me wherever I go,” Finnick commented, out of breath and sounding spooked.

Judy slipped to the ground, breathing deeply. Gasping, really. In a funny voice, she said, “And I’m never going to leave my shock pistol at home again.”

And then, surprising the hell out of Nick, she burst into tears.

Nick sprang forward, out of his element but knowing what a normal mammal would need in a situation like this. He dropped to his knees and enfolded her in a hug, allowing her to bury her head in his chest. “It’s okay, Carrots. Judy. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not,”_ she wheezed, trembling against him. “I’ve never been so scared in my life! I was going to die, I could feel it, I could feel the life getting _squeezed_ out of me, he was – he was going to kill me! Oh my God, Nick, I almost _died,_ I almost _left you,_ I can’t...how am I ever supposed to be a good officer if…”

“Hey,” Finnick said gruffly. “You ain’t a cop yet, Judy, and you did a damn sight better’n most rookies could. Don’t you dare go there.”

“He’s right,” Nick affirmed. “You kept your cool. Being scared is fine. Remember? Fear keeps us alive.”

She laughed shakily. “Not sure fear is the greatest weapon against hooves like that, but thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Hooves?” Nick’s investigative senses flared at that. “Are you sure? That thing had paws.”

“Convincing prosthetics. That was definitely a hoof against my throat. It’s why I had trouble fighting back.”

“...Shit,” Finnick summarized. Shit, _indeed._

* * *

Julia’s ex smelled like musk mask and cigarettes and oranges, so much so that Nick couldn’t get any hint of what he smelled like underneath. He was shorter than Nick had expected and slim – almost skinny – under his uniform. Nick knew that the officer taking their statement was Julia’s ex because she’d sent a photo of him via text to Judy.

At least no bones were broken and nobody had a concussion. The necessity of medical attention was why it had taken them so long to call the local station to give a report and statements. Judy swung her feet to and fro, unable to touch the floor from her place on the red fox-sized table at the clinic, eyeing Officer Lloyd Alma with suspicion. Of course they had no _proof_ that Alma was the one behind the staged hauntings, especially with the lack of scent match (which wasn’t admissible evidence in court, but was good enough to set a course for a PI) and the fact that he’d been so quick to arrive in uniform, but he was small enough that he could probably climb through Fiona Hamford’s window with hardly any trouble.

Even so, there must have been an accomplice.

“Let me get this straight,” said Alma’s partner, a ram whose nametag read “Fleecer.” Nick tried not to laugh. “You were cornered in an alleyway by a  _ monster-” _

“Mammal in a monster costume,” Judy corrected.

“Yeah, okay, a  _ fake  _ monster, who told you to stop investigating a string of robberies that  _ should  _ be investigated by the ZPD?”

“My client, and the other victims, all reported the crimes to the local precinct,” Nick told Fleecer irritably, “but it seems that someone is either incompetent or deliberately obstructing. Ms. Hamford came to me because I am  _ not  _ a cop, and therefore, the bureaucracy that rules your lives does not apply to me.”

“Listen, you little  _ shit,  _ I don’t expect a fox to understand the logo on this badge-”

“Section A, paragraph 12, sub-paragraph C in the ZPD’s code of conduct states that any and all instances of willful discrimination against any individual on the basis of species, sex, gender identity, or nationality shall be punished by administrative leave and a conduct investigation,” Judy intoned, grinning widely at Alma and Fleecer. “I know most officers view the code as a set of unofficial guidelines, but my partner would be well within his rights to bring a suit against you and against the department if you continue that line of discussion.”

“Who do you think you  _ are,  _ little girl,” Fleecer asked.

“I think I’m heading into the advanced portion of the ZPA and I’m the first mammal in over 20 years to get full marks on every single protocol exam. You’re with Precinct 6, right? So you were an average student, middle of the road in every respect. I can do this all day with you, Officer.  _ Or  _ you can try again, this time without the speciesism.”

Part of Nick wanted to forcibly shut Judy’s mouth before she alienated potential coworkers before she even graduated. Most of him wanted to kiss her. He loved it when she used her scolding voice, even if she wasn’t scolding him. It was hot. And gorgeous. And Finnick was giving him a weird look, so he focused on the officers.

Alma took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “They’re not wrong. Someone in our department is deliberately obstructing an investigation.”

The ram gave him a disbelieving look. “Seriously?”

“Haven’t I put this on the briefing docket several times? We’ll need to look into this. It’s irresponsible not to. Plus...it’s  _ Jules.  _ I can’t just…”

“Fuck her,” Fleecer muttered. “Fine. You three got attacked by some idiot in a costume telling you to stop investigating. You’ve given us as detailed a description as you can, and you believe you did some physical damage to the aggressor. Anything else you need to add?”

“Not at this time,” Nick replied. “Now, I believe the doctor would like to come in and treat my partner’s injuries, but we have your number if we remember anything else.”

As the officers exited the examination room, Finnicked asked in a low murmur, “Does she use that voice on you?”

“Makes you want to swoon, doesn’t it?”

“...I will never,  _ ever  _ understand you, Wilde.”

* * *

Nick was thankful that he wouldn’t have to use Porcino unless this lead fell through, because he  _ really  _ didn’t want to have to owe any favors to a crime boss. Julia still had a key to Alma’s apartment, and he had begged her to come back to him several times. While it was an unorthodox and borderline unethical way to get into Alma’s place, Julia was willing to let them in and pretend to be waiting for her ex. They only had to wait about ten minutes for Alma to return, as Julia still knew what his schedule was. When he did return, he seemed torn between anger at seeing the three detectives and delight at seeing Julia.

“Darling, what are  _ they  _ doing here,” he asked, managing to express both sentiments at once.

“These are my friends. They’re helping me with the robbery case,” she replied smoothly, stepping forward to nuzzle at Alma’s shoulder. “I thought it might be beneficial to have you all meet and go over the details together. If we can get this case solved, then I can start working again, and maybe you and I…”

She let the sentence drift. Nick had to admit she wasn’t a bad actress after all. Alma seemed convinced, at least. “Of course, darling, of  _ course  _ we can compare notes. Please, everyone, take a seat.”

“Um,” Judy said hesitantly, a rueful smile on her face, “do you mind if I, uh, use your restroom? Nick’s the detective anyway; I’m not an expert yet.”

“Whatever,” Alma replied, waving vaguely at her. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

The cute act always worked.  _ Always.  _ It wasn’t fair! It was a dangerous weapon, especially in the paws of someone who had a sharp mind and a strong body. Judy really had it all. It wasn’t fair, but Nick was so goddamn  _ lucky. _

“Thanks so much!” Judy wandered out of the room, ostensibly in search of the restroom. In truth, she was going to look in Alma’s closets. If caught, she could simply play up the dumb bunny angle; Alma had proven to believe in stereotypes, at least partially, so it wouldn’t be that hard to convince him.

If Alma had anything to hide, it wasn’t certain to be in his apartment, but at least they could  _ start  _ looking there.

“I missed you,” simpered Julia, giving Nick the creeps. She was  _ really good  _ at that, so different from her role as the angry Commander on that short MewTube series. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Alma replied, a gross lovestruck look on his face. “So much. I  _ knew  _ you still loved me. I  _ knew  _ you only broke up with me because of the stresses of work.”

Ugh. Abusers were all the same. Wait…

Something about that itched at Nick’s brain. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but he’d get there eventually, he knew. 

“Sweet cheese and crackers,” Judy shrieked from further into the apartment, and Nick was on his feet before he could remember that this was part of the plan. She was  _ supposed  _ to make a scene if she found anything.

Nick, Finnick, Alma, and Julia raced toward the sound of Judy’s voice. She was standing in front of a hall closet, holding her cheeks like a real damsel.  _ Ha.  _ A quick glance at Alma’s face showed Nick that he knew  _ exactly  _ what Judy had found, and was not at all happy about having to explain himself. Sure enough, the first words out of his mouth were, “What are you doing in my closet, rabbit?”

“Looking for the bathroom,” she replied, balling her paws into fists and putting them on her hips. Good; her shock pistol was just under her jacket. “You just said down the hall. I got the door wrong, but it’s a good thing I did, isn’t it?”

“What’s going on,” Julia asked shakily. “Lloyd?”

“Just a misunderstanding, Babe. Step away from the closet, rabbit, or I’ll-”

“Shoot me?” Judy’s smile and voice were saccharine. “Call the cops on me? I’m sure they’ll be interested to know why you have the same monster suit in your closet that the mammal who choked me  _ with his hooves  _ was wearing. I’m sure there’s a decent explanation.”

Okay. Nick could finally see why his usual “smarm and charm” routine pissed off so many mammals. Hearing that come out of Judy’s mouth was painful. Physically. This wasn’t going to be a regular thing, was it? Nick felt slimy just  _ listening  _ to that awfully smug tone. 

“Listen, you have  _ no idea  _ what’s going on-”

“No, we do,” Nick offered, as the whole pathetic picture finally became clear. 

“Don’t move,” Judy added when Alma’s weight shifted. She pulled her shock pistol and trained it on him as Finnick drew out a retractable baton. Not as sturdy or hard-hitting as a baseball bat, but also not as obvious. “Put your hooves up, Alma.”

Nick picked up where he left off, channeling Basil of Baker Street with a side of Stan Pines. “You thought Ms. Root here would come back to you if you drummed up more work for her, so your idiotic plan was to terrorize Ms. Rose into working harder. But you couldn’t just do that, because it would be obvious who was behind it. So you terrorized  _ everyone  _ Ms. Rose repped, and you made sure none of the police reports got where they needed to go. Now, I ain’t much of a thinker-”

Judy made a choked noise of amusement. Nick graciously ignored her.

“-but from where I’m standing, that seems  _ awfully  _ convoluted. So, and I’m just  _ spitballing  _ here, my guess is that somewhere deep down, you suspected Ms. Root broke up with you because you’re an abusive piece of shit rather than anything directly to do with her career. So you thought you might as well profit off your little scheme even if you don’t win back your ex. Sound about right?”

“Not even a little,  _ fox!  _ I don’t even know what that thing is or how it got into my apartment. For all I know Jules put it there to ruin me even more than she already did!”

“Right, because your attack on her would be a matter of public record,” Finnick said with a wicked grin. “Someone with a way to access that information could look up what happened. And make the appropriate inferences. How long were you on unpaid leave after that little debacle? Long enough to leave you strapped for cash.”

“But not long enough,” Julia concluded. “They should have fired you outright.”

“You little  _ bitch-” _

When Alma moved toward Julia, Judy pulled the trigger. Her shock pistol packed a sure punch, but it wasn’t lethal; he’d be out at least long enough for them to drag him into his living room and cuff him to the radiator.

“I never really understood that insult,” Finnick said casually, watching Judy and Nick do the majority of the heavy lifting. “Bitch. It means female canid, but I never met a female canid who wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. Seems more like a compliment to me.”

“I’m…” Julia swallowed and sat down on the living room couch. “I’m calling the cops.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Judy replied, and produced a card. “Call Precinct 1. It’s not quite their jurisdiction, but I think our contact, Detective Wolfard, might understand when we explain that we don’t know who in Precinct 6 we can trust.”

* * *

By the time Detective Wolfard and his junior partner, Officer Rivers, showed up at Alma’s apartment, the llama was awake again, but at least he was intimidated enough by the weapons trained on him that he wasn’t making much of a fuss. Alma, surprising exactly no one, immediately clammed up, only mentioning that he needed representation. They’d get the name of his accomplice one way or another; Nick’s bet was that Alma would crack under pressure and with the enticement of a plea deal, but with a different precinct on the case, it was likely that they could find the accomplice even without a confession from Alma.

“Thizz feckin weeyed,” Rivers said, holding up the monster costume with distaste. Nick couldn’t place her accent, but either she was a recent transplant or  _ very  _ attached to her place of birth. “Guess at’s what ya get from the Nocturnal District ‘ough. Buncha freaks ‘n cosplayas.”

Wolfard ignored his partner in favor of looking at Judy curiously. “Aren’t you from the ZPA?”

“Yeah! Judy Hopps. We met a few weeks ago at your lecture on vice reform.”

“Right. Well, Hopps, I expect to see you at Precinct 1 in a year.” The large wolf yanked on Alma’s shoulder, trying to get him to move. “At this rate you’ll solve more cases before you graduate than most rookies do in the first six months.”

“Just hanging out with the right mammals at the right time,” Judy said modestly, but Nick could see the lines of excitement in her shoulders and ears. “Thanks for the help, Detective.”

His expression soured. “Yeah. It shouldn’t have been needed.”

Judy’s entire body drooped and she said nothing as Rivers and Wolfard headed toward the door. Nick, Finnick, and Judy would be required to go down to Precinct 1 and give their statement, but that wasn’t why Judy was upset, at least, Nick didn’t  _ think  _ that was why.

“I thought police corruption was a myth,” she whispered.  _ Ah.  _ That would be enough to bring her down.

“I’m sure it’s rare,” he told her, but it was just a platitude. Nick did not have faith in any institution, as a strict rule.

“Thanks, but...I know you’re just trying to make me feel better. I’m not an idiot, I’m just a little dumb sometimes. Bad mammals do bad things, especially when they have some power.”

Well, this gloom couldn’t do. Judy deserved to be happy about their first bust. So, raising his voice and resting his muzzle in the cradle of Judy’s ears, Nick said, “He would have gotten away with it, too…”

“Oh my God,  _ please don’t,”  _ begged the llama.

_ “If _ it weren’t for us meddling kits,” Judy finished, the sad shake in her limbs turning into laughter. The sniggers of the arresting officers were hardly friendly, but Nick couldn’t bring himself to care; a mammal who terrorized actresses in a demented attempt to give them publicity deserved more humiliation than that. Still, it would do, for the moment.

“And... _ scene,”  _ Finnick announced smugly. Lloyd Alma, verbally reduced to the cartoon villain he was, let out a loud groan of despair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pictured Nick saying, "He would have gotten away with it too…" and Judy finishing, "...if it weren’t for us medding kits!" That was the entire point of this story. To be able to use that exchange. Of course I wasn't gonna take this case seriously, but I hope I didn't dip so far into mindless comedy that it ruined the tone of the RS series. Nick and Judy are gonna Nick and Judy regardless of the setting though, so...yeah.


End file.
